


Football with Demigods isn’t always a good idea

by ChocolateAndRedbull



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Hurt Peter, Hurt Peter Parker, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Precious Peter Parker, Protective May Parker (Spider-Man), Sick Character, Sick Peter, Sick Peter Parker, Sickfic, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:35:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24292960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolateAndRedbull/pseuds/ChocolateAndRedbull
Summary: Peter Parker woke up sick and thought, “You know what I’m going to do? I’m gonna play football with the literal Avengers. What a swell idea.”OrPeter’s reflex’s aren’t what they should be when he wakes up sick. He’s lucky he has people looking after him.
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Natasha Romanov, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 154





	Football with Demigods isn’t always a good idea

"Peter, what's with the hoodie? It's like 70 degrees out," May questioned from behind her coffee mug.

"I'm cold," he mumbled, pulling the hoodie tighter around him.

May eyed him carefully, "You alright, sweetie?"

"Yeah, I just- I'm not feeling too- um, I'm not feeling great," he murmured, rubbing a hand over his face. 

May grimaced, "You wanna stay home today?"

"No, I've got a test this afternoon and then training at the compound, I'll be fine," Peter said, deciding to skip out on breakfast as his stomach rolled. 

May mulled it over, "Well, I gotta go to work, but if you need me then just call me and I'll be right there, okay? I'll find someone to cover." May knew that her boy really mustn't been feeling well when he simply nodded instead of arguing with her.

——

"Whoa, dude, are you okay? You're really not looking too good," Ned said as he watched Peter walk towards him.

"Not feeling it either, man," Peter grunted.

"You look like you're gonna pass out," Ned said, hand hovering towards his friend as he swayed.

Peter took a deep breath, shivering. "I'm fine," he said, "I'm just- just _cold_." He wrapped an arm around his stomach, swallowing thickly as he found himself hovering near the bathroom for fear he might lose last night's dinner.

Ned placed a hand on his friend's forehead, "Jesus, Peter, that fever's feeling pretty high…"

Peter shrugged him off, pulling his zipper up to his chin, "I'll be okay, man, don't worry."

—— 

" _Psst. Parker_!" Peter looked up from where he was curled around himself in his seat.

MJ gave him a pointed look. " _If you're really not feeling good then maybe you should go home,_ " she whispered.

Peter took a deep breath to calm his stomach before replying. “ _I’ve got training with Mr Stark this afternoon, I can’t miss it._ ”

"Jones, Parker, something you'd like to share with the class?" Mr Matthews called. "No, sir," Peter mumbled as he put his head back down on his desk.

——

Peter tried not to groan as his stomach lurched for the hundredth time that day. He was seriously beginning to consider giving up on the training and going home to rest.

"Alright guys, to start we’re gonna play a little football. Get us all warmed up and whatever,” Clint called to the team.

Peter inwardly groaned.

“You alright, kid?” Natasha asked quietly, not making it obvious she was even talking to him.

Peter stifled a queasy belch before strapping his helmet to his head and nodding unconvincingly.

Natasha watched as he jogged onto the field and followed him, grimacing at how bad he looked. "Peter, you shouldn't be training, you're really not looking too good," she said cautiously.

Peter blinked the dizziness from his head and dug his heels into the ground. "I-I'm fine, Nat," he said, swallowing harshly. "I'll just- I'll just stay away from the ball. Don't- Don't pass it to me and it’ll be over soon.” 

"Peter…" Natasha said, frowning at the sweat already pooling around the teen's collar. "Are- Are you wearing two shirts?"

"Three," he said, rolling his shoulders. ——

Natasha respected the kid’s wishes and kept the ball and the action away from him. Peter ran away from every tackle, pass and score he saw, calling "Just going long, Mr Barton!" when yelled at.

Peter winced as the action moved to his corner of the field and quickly turned away from the advancing players. However, what he didn't account for was the 6’3 demigod on the opposing team running at him full force. Peter’s reactions weren't fast enough. He didn't have time to even think about changing direction before he collided with him. Peter grunted loudly as Thor’s forearm was pushed into his gut, causing his stomach to lurch dangerously. He ignored the sharp pain in his knee and gasped as his helmet covered head hit something hard and not the soft grass he had been expecting. He didn't have much time to think about the cracking sound of his bones before Thor fell on top of him, head colliding with head and his world went black.

——

A lot of things occurred to Peter at once. The throbbing pain in his right knee, the cold burning in the back of his head, the uncomfortable stabbing in the fingers on his left hand. But he didn't care. All he could think of was the lurch in his stomach as it gurgled beneath his shirt.

It then occurred to him that he was being carried.

On a stretcher.

He still couldn't find the strength to open his eyes but it was like all the sound came back to him at once.

There were voices. Lots of voices.

He was still on the training field.

Or rather, he was being carried from the training field.

" _We need to get him to the Medbay_." Tony.

" _Stark, you gotta calm down_ , _we're gonna take good care of him._ " Bruce.

“ _That knee can't be gone, he'll be out of action for weeks!_ " Steve.

Peter tried to focus on something, anything, to get his stomach to stop churning before he felt the back of his tongue weigh down and his stomach seemed to slowly move upwards. He moaned drowsily before dragging his hands upwards to pull half-heartedly at the straps on his helmet, grunting as pain shot through his fingers at the movement.

"Peter! Kiddo, you gotta keep that helmet on until we can get it off safely," Peter recognized Bruce’s voice before he pulled at his helmet again, this time noticing his hand coming away coated in what felt like blood.

"Pete, _stop_!" That was Tony, putting his hand on top of Peter's to pull it down and help him relax. Peter tried to shake his head as his throat tightened even more and he moved to sit up.

"Whoa, _woah_! Peter, relax buddy, we're gonna get you help," he couldn't distinguish between the voices anymore, the only thought running through his mind being _I'm gonna puke_. He pushed himself up, ignoring the pain in his _kneeheadhandsribsstomach_.

"Peter. _Pete, stop,_ calm down!" He was being pushed back down, told to relax. He jerked away from their grip, grunting before pulling again, causing white hot agony to explode through his head as he projectile vomited through the bars of his helmet, covering himself and the stretcher in last night's take out. Peter grunted as he heard the people surrounding him sigh sympathetically. The anxious compound staff groaned in disgust as Peter heaved again, covering himself in vomit from his chest to his tennis shoes. Once his stomach calmed down, Peter was bombarded with pain. His ribs, his hand, his knee, his _head_. Peter grunted as his head swam.

"Peter? Pete, relax, kiddo, we're gonna get you some help, okay?" Peter couldn't respond, couldn't think, couldn't _breathe_. He was slowly pushed to lie down on the stretcher again, squeezing his eyes shut and whimpering as his head swam.

"Pete, try and stay awake for me, okay? Try and focus on something."

But he couldn't hear them.

——

Before Peter even knew he was awake he was leaning over the side of the Medbay bed and heaving onto the floor. He could only focus on the blood rushing in his ears over the wet splatter of his vomit on the linoleum.

"Woah, woah sweetie, c'mon Peter, relax." He felt a hand on his back, helping him to lie back against the pillows.

"Couldn't have waited for Tony, huh?" Peter opened his eyes and squinted up at the figure sitting beside him.

"Natasha?”

"Hey, sweetheart, how're you feeling?" Natasha smiled, "You've been out for a while."

"H-How long?" Peter said, catching his breath.

"Um, about 9 hours? It's almost 2:30…"

Peter eyes slid shut again as he swallowed. "Mr Stark?"

Natasha chuckled, "You really scared him, Pete, he just left to go get coffee."

“Aunt May?” Peter asked, a little guilty that it was Tony who came to his mind first.

“Happy’s on his way back with her now, sweetie, she’ll be here soon.”

Peter sighed. He moved to scratch around his IV but was stopped by a weight around his wrist.

“You broke your fingers," Natasha said, nodding towards the hand that was wrapped in a thick red cast. Peter groaned as he wiggled his thumb and index finger, the only ones not bound in plaster.

"And?" Peter asked quietly.

Natasha looked at him quizzically.

"What's the damage?" Peter said pointedly, trying to ignore the uncomfortable heat in the room.

"Oh! You broke three of your fingers, you've dislocated your knee, two cracked ribs and a mild to moderate concussion with four stitches in the back of your head."

"Jesus," Peter groaned.

"And sweetie, you were really sick, like Bruce was worried there for a while," Natasha said earnestly. Peter didn't have the strength to question her as he felt the heat roll over him, instead he waited for her to elaborate.

"Your fever got really high, and they just couldn't get it down," Natasha said, Peter could tell Bruce hadn’t been the only one who was worried.

Peter took a few shallow breaths as his eyes slid shut. "Um, I don't…"

Natasha’s eyes widened, "Shit, are you-"

"I don't feel good," he breathed, before his vision faded.

"Get- Get someone.”

———

_"Tony, you need to relax, okay? His fever is coming down, he should be waking up soon. You need to go and rest."_

_"Banner, with all due respect, you'd have to take me out of here in a body bag."_

_"Bruce you’ve seen the way Tony and the kid are, why would you think he would leave him like this?"_

_"I'm not leaving Peter’s side until we can take him home."_

"You don't gotta talk about me like I'm not even here," he mumbled.

"Peter? Pete, kiddo?" Tony called, crossing the room and squatting next to him.

Peter took shallow breaths as he tried to summon the energy to open his eyes.

"Shh, relax, kid, you're okay. You're gonna be okay."

"Mr Stark?" he whispered. "Mr Stark, I don’t feel good."

"I know, buddy, you really scared us there," he murmured affectionately.

"Nat?" he called, still not opening his eyes.

"Yeah? Yeah, sweetie, I'm here," Natasha said, moving closer to the bed and taking his hand.

"What's the damage?" he breathed, smiling slightly when he heard her chuckle.

"You had a heat seizure, kid, you almost bit through your own damn tongue."

Peter sighed uncomfortably as his skin burned. He felt a hand on his forehead.

"Peter, it's gonna be a bit uncomfortable for a while, at least until we get this fever down a bit more, but you're gonna be just fine," he heard Bruce say.

"I feel sick," he whimpered, breathing shallowly.

"I know, kiddo," Tony hummed, before placing what he presumed was a wet cloth on his forehead.

Peter whimpered again as he shivered, wanting to pull away.

"No, no, Peter, just relax, it'll make you feel better," Bruce promised. "If you think you're gonna be sick just tell me."

Peter grunted as he moved to roll over, and Bruce had a bowl underneath his chin, waiting.

He felt a hand run through his hair as he heaved, knowing it was Natasha.

"You're gonna be alright, sweetie, I promise," was all he heard before he passed out once again.

———

When Peter opened his eyes he found his Aunt May staring at him.

"Hey, love, how're you feeling?"

Peter chewed the inside of his cheek, "A bit shit, to be honest."

May chuckled. "Yeah, I'd say so, you've been out for quite a while." She sighed, "I knew I shouldn't have let you go to school."

"May, you couldn't have made me stay home, I was training no matter what," Peter chuckled weakly, letting his eyes slide shut.

"You're probably right," May laughed.

Peter shivered and May knew that he was no longer cold, just scared.

"Peter, sweetie, you're gonna be okay, you know that right?" May said seriously.

Peter nodded, trying to blink the fear from his eyes.

"We’ve got you, sweetheart, you're gonna be fine."


End file.
